


Theory and Practice of Fundamental Interactions

by naye



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II
Genre: F/F, F/M, Foursome, Foursome - F/F/M/M, M/M, Multi, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Post-Canon, Resolved Sexual Tension, Shameless Smut, Solving Interpersonal Issues With Sex, Taking Isabela's Advice
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-21
Updated: 2016-01-31
Packaged: 2018-05-15 00:40:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 17,687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5765137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/naye/pseuds/naye
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"What it all boils down to," Isabela said, "is that by their very nature those two have to fight - or fuck."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Theory of Opposing Forces

**Author's Note:**

  * For [skuldchan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/skuldchan/gifts).



> Follows on directly from [No Safer Harbour](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5601436), which contains a bit more background - though nothing that isn't obvious from context here. Post 'Here Lies the Abyss' in Inquisition. Possibly not Multiplayer compatible.

While Hawke had been glad to have company on the long way to Weisshaupt, and knew she couldn’t have asked for better companions, she was experiencing a moment of profound regret here on the dusty Anderfel plain. “They are driving me insane,” she growled through gritted teeth, Anders and Fenris now stood in the road behind them, argument getting louder despite the exhausting heat of the sun overhead.

Isabela rolled her eyes. “I told you,” she said archly. “Those two, they can’t help it.”

“But they’ve been over this a thousand times - and that’s just this week!” Hawke shot the arguing parties a withering glare over her shoulder, which they were far too absorbed in their stupid fight to notice. Hawke would worry about them drawing the attention of wandering darkspawn, but right now she would welcome the interruption and the excuse to stab something.

Isabela, thankfully never one to get dragged into these particular rounds of bickering, shrugged. “It’s not about the mage thing,” she said.

Hawke’s eyebrows shot up. Had Isabela not been listening for the past… seven years? “I don’t know about you, but every single thing I hear out of those two is about the mage thing.”

Isabela shook her head. “Well, of course. It’s a great excuse. But it’s not _really_ about that.”

If Isabela had a point, Hawke did not see it. “No, I’m pretty sure Anders is really about the mage thing.” Because, of course he was. Single-handedly causing the end of the Circles in most of Thedas hadn’t changed that. Couldn’t change it, thanks to Justice. “And Fenris...” 

“Fenris doesn’t argue with anyone else the way he does with Anders,” Isabela said. “You know that.”

“So what are you saying?” A quick look behind them confirmed that Anders and Fenris were louder now, but still hadn’t moved from their spot in the desolate road. Dust swirled around them, obscuring the details of their faces, but as long as neither one of them was glowing Hawke and Isabela would probably be able to continue their discussion without having to break off any attempted murders. 

Isabela smirked. “You honestly can’t tell?”

“Would I be pestering you like this if I could?” Hawke said, not exactly getting less frustrated by Isabela’s evasiveness.

Isabela made a little humming noise, her smirk turning into an amused smile. “Ah, so you really haven’t noticed.”

Hawke shook her head, generally annoyed. “I’ve noticed they fight? But you’re saying…?”

“That they can’t help it. Those two are too similar and too different all at once - repelling and attracting; tension building endlessly. I’ve seen it before - strong people with strong wills and no outlet for all that energy between them.”

Hawke knew Isabela wasn’t wrong - she never saw Anders quite this incandescent with anyone he wasn’t actively flinging offensive magic at. “But how can that not be about their, uh. Philosophical disagreements?” Another quick check confirmed that what they could see of the disagreement was still philosophical rather than physical. 

“No. What it all boils down to, beneath all that, is that by their very nature those two _have_ to fight - or fuck.”

Hawke made a completely unrepeatable noise and almost tripped over her own feet. Isabela laughed, delighted at the reaction. Regaining her balance, Hawke whipped back and forth staring between Isabela and their two stragglers, trying to put her thoughts into words. “But we do!” she managed.

Isabela rolled her eyes. “Yes, of course. And Fenris has _me_ , so you know. But _they_ don’t.”

Hawke managed to get her feet working again, and had to take a few long strides to catch up with Isabela. “They… want to?”

“Don’t tell me you’ve never known opposites to attract!” Isabela said.

Hawke shook her head. On one level Isabela’s comment made perfect sense. On the other... “It’s not about _that_ it’s about - Anders? And Fenris?”

Isabela grinned wickedly. “Absolutely.”

“Since when?” Hawke managed to ask, too amused to be offended, but too incredulous to take Isabela’s teasing seriously.

“Since always,” Isabela said, clearly enjoying this. “Think about it! If Anders hadn’t been so crazy about you…”

Hawke tried the the thought, just for a moment, and ended up giving Isabela a probing look. “I can’t say I ever considered that he might have been looking elsewhere - and certainly not _there_.”

Isabela turned, and Hawke with her. Almost out of shouting-range now, Anders and Fenris had finally noticed that their respective partners had dwindled to distant spots barely visible through the dust devils on the road, and seemed to be moving to catch up. While gesturing angrily at each other, of course, which was bound to slow them down. “Oh, I doubt either of them ever thought that far. But this isn’t about thinking - it’s about feeling. And when it comes to attraction… Well. You know me.”

Hawke laughed softly. “You’re the expert,” she said. That part, at least, she could not deny.

“Exactly!” Isabela twirled back in the direction they had been heading in - north, more or less - with a pleased swagger. “So, what about it?”

“I always thought it was just…” Hawke made a vague gesture with her hands. “Mages. Neither of them can see the matter in any shade of grey, and so they do their thing.”

“Well, that’s just because you were always getting caught up in the most ridiculous situations involving mages,” Isabela said - which was true. It was one of Hawke’s many talents. “It gave them an excuse to go at it fighting. But the fact that we’re all the way out here all these years later, and they still haven’t stopped…”

“Ugh,” Hawke groaned. “I had enough of that in Kirkwall. I swear, thinking about them going on like this all the way to Weisshaupt…” Visions of violence danced before her, until Isabela pulled her conspiratorially close. 

“So let’s get them distracted!” 

Hawke grunted, but didn’t pull away. She could hardly believe she was indulging Isabela in this conversation, but it’s not like she had any constructive suggestions herself - she’d tried reasoning with Anders, and he would promise to stay calm and then Fenris would give him _one look_ and he would be off on another tirade. “Distracted,” she repeated cautiously.

“Fucking,” Isabela clarified.

Hawke sucked in a quick breath. Right. So that was… something they were considering now. To be fair to Isabela, Hawke herself had considered inflicting a variety of non-lethal injuries just for the sake of peace and quiet, so compared to that, this was probably less drastic.  
Maybe. Couldn’t this go horribly wrong? But then again, all it would take was one heated moment’s lack of control, and either Fenris or Anders could end up doing something they would never be able to take back. Something that might split their party apart for good - and that was the last thing Hawke wanted.

Isabela had been studying Hawke’s face, and must have seen the indecision - or maybe she just got bored of waiting for an answer. “Come on. What’s the worst that could happen?” she said cheerfully.

Hawke considered for a moment - probably the worst that could happen would be the same things she had already thought of, only with fewer clothes and more embarrassment? Which, come to think of it, might distract from both arguments and violence, at least temporarily. Plus, she could not deny that the idea of Anders and Fenris naked together did hold an aesthetic sort of appeal. It wasn’t something she would previously have considered, but...

“I know for a fact Anders doesn’t have anything to be ashamed of,” Isabela offered, interrupting her thoughts, and now Hawke did trip. Isabela caught her, quick as a cat and twice as smug. “Oh, that’s right,” she said with faux chagrin. “He doesn’t like me reminding anyone of that the time at The Pearl!”

Disentangling herself from Isabela’s helpful hold, Hawke blinked, dredging old memories from the early days in Kirkwall to the surface. That story of The Pearl, in Denerim. The brothel. Where… Hawke shot Isabela an incredulous look. “You and _Anders_?”

Isabela’s grin could not possibly grow any wider. “And not just me.”

Hawke felt a little faint. If her immediate worry had been for her lover’s reaction at any kind of indecent proposition, thinking back over everything he had told her of his life - all the little hints, the bits and pieces of a past neither of them had ever felt the need to go over in detail… Well. Yes. Definitely not just Isabela.

Isabela, who at this very moment was giving Hawke her best bedroom eyes. “Also - not just _Anders_ ,” she reminded her.

Because of course. Anders was her _current_ lover. Before that - well, Isabela had been a lot easier to get. “You already slept with both of us.” Hawke was tempted to stop in the middle of the road, but that would mean Anders and Fenris catching up at the worst possible moment. “I can’t believe I’m only just realizing this now.” She planted her sweaty face in her grimy palm, feeling dust and mortification everywhere.

“Aw, don’t worry, Hawke. It is really hard to keep track of who I’ve slept with,” Isabela said. “But I’ve only done Anders solo - well, no, not technically, but I mean - not as the whole twosome on his ownsome thing he’s had going since Justice.”

“It’s not…” Hawke started, looking back up. She trailed off when she realized that she had no idea what she was even trying to say - mention that Justice was never as absent as during sex? Or do what Anders usually did, and insist they were one and the same now, even though that was simplifying the truth to a falsification. Instead, she just looked at Isabela and nodded. “Right. I guess. And I can’t believe we’re having this conversation, but - Fenris? Wouldn’t he - you know. Mind?”

Isabela laughed. “He’s been with me for years now, Hawke. What do _you_ think?”

Hawke nodded weakly. “Right.” Of course - if Fenris kept coming back to Isabela, it only stood to reason that he’d developed a tolerance (or taste for) the more adventurous side of loving her. So now Hawke had gone from amused disbelief to stunned realization to just having a whole lot of individually unrelated but overall rather convincing facts and completely unexpected but undeniably attractive mental images on her metaphorical hands.

“Even with mages?”

Isabela shrugged, sweeping any details aside. “I told you. It’s not the mages - it’s just Anders.”

“Then…” Hawke started, and realized she could hear footsteps behind them now. She hurried to lower her voice. “And you really think it could work?”

Isabela nodded. “Absolutely.” Then she shrugged. “I think.” As the footsteps were accompanied by muttered comments in exactly the same vein as all the other comments that had been muttered, shouted, snarled and snapped in the past few weeks, she caught Hawke’s eye. “It’s worth a try?” 

With her own frustration building, Hawke imagined how nice it would be to get some release from all that squabbling. “Maybe.” Then she thought about all the other ways in which she and her tense little band could find release, and found it was quite a pleasant distraction - and vivid too, thanks to Isabela. It sparked a new, curious urge. Catching her friend’s eye, Hawke grinned and revised her statement. “No. _Definitely_.” Because why not? They all deserved something nicer than weeks of endless bickering and brooding ahead.

Next to her, Isabela silently punched the air in victory, a delighted sparkle in her eye.

Fenris and Anders missed the whole exchange, of course, but that was just as well. Hawke and Isabela would need time to prepare before they would be ready to… well. Share.


	2. A Conspiracy of Rogues

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Isabela and Hawke make a bed, and lie in it.

The Anderfel roads were awful - blighted, in the true sense of the word, even after all these centuries. Fortunately the Grey Wardens kept functional waystations along the main road to Weisshaupt, and enterprising innkeepers would frequently come along and build less spartan establishments in close proximity to that protective presence. They offered travellers with business in Weisshaupt and other far-flung parts of the Anderfels a chance to rest under a roof, with solid walls between themselves and roving darkspawn, and even more importantly - an opportunity to wash off the ever-present dust.

It was easy enough for two enterprising rogues with money for bribes and a mind for mischief to set the stage for Isabela’s suggested experiment at the next such isolated inn they came to. Their bickering duo was sent off with orders not to come back until they’d cleaned up - and then the bathing facilities experienced a sudden and unexplained delay, keeping the two away until Hawke and Isabela were good and ready. And washed, of course - a quick scrub in the landlady’s private tub was more than enough to get the worst of the grime out.

Instead of their customary pair of rooms, they snatched up the largest one the landlady had to offer them, and bullied her well-muscled servants into moving the heavy beds and - on Isabela’s insistence - securing them closely together.

Hawke put her hands on her hips to survey the result after the servants left. It looked like a bed fit for a giant, with wavy sideboards instead of a headboard and a footboard. The sheets were reasonably clean, and what appeared to be a solid, ridiculously-sized mattress was haphazardly strewn with pillows and blankets - the latter were unlikely to be required, given the stuffy heat of the nights this far north, but pillows might be good. The fireplace wasn’t needed for heat tonight, but the light of the flickering flames made it even easier to see by than just the moon outside. She pushed some damp hair out of her face, wishing there was more to do - having given the signal to release the baths, they were about to start waiting. She hated waiting, especially when she couldn’t anticipate exactly what would occur at the end of it.

“It’s not like you to be nervous, Hawke,” Isabela’s voice came from right behind her. Hawke jumped.

“I’m not nervous!” she protested.

Isabela raised her eyebrows in silent disagreement. 

“I’m just…” Hawke searched for the right words, the words that would convey a total lack of this ‘nerves’ thing. “Trying to predict all possible outcomes.”

Isabela laughed. “Hawke. It’s alright to be nervous. It’s natural.”

“So you’re nervous, then?” Hawke asked pointedly.

“Me? No.” Isabela let her voice drop to a purr, and nuzzled Hawke’s ear. “But I’ve already predicted my _favorite_ outcome, and it’s gotten me quite… distracted.” Maker take that woman and her wicked, wicked ways - she always knew how to get Hawke’s attention. There was an undeniable frisson going down Hawke’s spine, and it sparked a lot of suggestions for what they could get up to with the rest of her body. Hawke justified the reaction with the fact that they’d been sleeping rough for a good fortnight, and this was her first chance at any decent intimacy in weeks. 

Hawke cleared her throat. “Right. Well. As long as neither one of us is nervous.”

Isabela gave her earlobe a playful bite, and Hawke let out a startled gasp. Not only had she not been expecting that - though she really should have - but she wasn’t ready for the surge of arousal that followed Isabela’s friendly nibbling. After so long with Anders, it was unexpected to feel any of what she did right now for Isabela - like moving back in time; inhabiting some earlier Hawke. It didn’t help that most of Hawke’s memories of Isabela with her head uncovered and hair damp like now were all rather explicit in nature. The dissonance between then and now wasn’t a bad feeling, but strange, and difficult to know what to do with.

“Relax,” Isabela said, gently, and placed a kiss on Hawke’s forehead. “Stop thinking about every little thing. Trust your feelings.” She pulled back, and looked at Hawke, those big golden eyes all serious for a moment. “It will be fine. Trust me.”

“I do,” Hawke breathed, slightly dazed. In Kirkwall, Isabela had come back; Isabela had trusted Hawke even when it would have been easier not to, and things worked out. Maybe it was time to stop worrying about the risks and consider the rewards; to trust Isabela’s instincts and her own natural inclination to throw herself bodily at her problems. Maybe it was time to take this into the present. “I do,” she repeated, more firmly, the thrill of choosing a new adventure animating her words.

Isabela grinned. “Good. Then let’s get naked!” 

Even before Hawke had agreed, Isabela was halfway there. Hawke had always admired how she seemed to make clothes just disappear. Her own and others’ - Hawke found herself stripped with enthusiastic efficiency and more than a little groping. She could either go along with it or trip them both up - but in the end, it wasn’t lack of balance, but Isabela’s enthusiasm that kept her in place.

It wasn’t long until their clothes were discarded in a pile on the floor - just like old times, when it was occasionally possible to track them both through Hawke’s estate by the trail of garments strewn in their wake. And just like old times, Isabela had celebrated their newfound nudity by tackling Hawke onto the bed. 

“You know the only reason you end up on top is that I let you,” Hawke said when she got her breath back, a noticeably naked Isabela straddling her with a triumphant grin. 

“I take that as a compliment,” Isabela answered lightly, not at all bothered into a bragging contest. “I know how much you like to top.” The way Isabela bent down to murmur those words was absolutely designed to bring as much of her soft, warm breasts into contact with Hawke’s own chest as possible - she gave a shuddering sigh, and pulled Isabela closer. This curvy, smooth softness - it was absolutely intoxicating. Until Hawke grabbed at Isabela’s bottom and found her hands full of _round_ she had never really thought about what she had been missing out on, but all of a sudden she could not get enough of all the lovely dips and valleys that was another woman’s body against hers.

Isabela gave a delighted wriggle which Hawke felt _everywhere_ , and slid down to tuck herself against Hawke’s side. “That’s more like it,” she said approvingly.

Hawke hummed happily, caressing Isabela’s smooth back and kneading her ample bottom. “I was just worried we’d be bored waiting for the boys,” she said, her earlier anxieties dissipating rapidly in the radiant comfort of having Isabela all over her. “But I think I can come up with a few ways to pass the time.”

Isabela chuckled. “Just a few?” Then she gave Hawke another surprisingly chaste kiss, this one on the temple. “You’ll have to tell me all about them - but later. Listen.”

The stairs were creaking, and two familiar voices drifted down the hallway. Hawke propped herself up on an elbow, all adrenaline and arousal as she waited for the door to open and consequences to unfold. She couldn’t wait to see Anders; wanted him next to her so badly - and quelled that voice of concern that not all potential consequences were necessarily of the pleasant kind. Next to her, Isabela was arranging herself - artfully casual, and managing to show off several of her best features all at once. Hawke would have done the same, but she honestly had no idea how to get that effect, so she just scooted behind Isabela, looking over her shoulder with a hand resting on her waist.

“No, this is _our_ room.” Anders voice just outside - it lifted Hawke’s heart to hear it, even though he was clearly snapping at Fenris again. Understandable - they’d had the landlady provide the same directions to both men without any explanation.

“I’m sorry - I believe you’re mistaken. _Again_. I was told that Isabela had--”

The door swung open, and Anders and Fenris scuffled through the door and then froze with identical wide-eyed stares as they noticed the tableau greeting them. It was quite comical, really.

“You kept us waiting,” Isabela said in her most velvety growl.

“Hi Anders,” Hawke said, having completely failed to think of a good line.

The stares grew impossibly wider, but neither Anders nor Fenris - both of them rather damp and carrying awkward bundles of armour and overclothes - had any immediate reply. Hawke would have felt a bit sorry for them, but they’d both finally _shut up_ , so instead she was glad that the plan seemed to be working already.

Fenris shook himself out of it first. “Isabela,” he said, the name taking on layers of meaning in his smoky voice. That outrage wasn’t one of them was testament to his long association with Isabela. That Hawke detected a faint note of something very like approval? That was just plain weird.

“Fenris!” Isabela replied, and cheerfully gestured for him to join them. 

Leaving the two of them to communicate whatever other messages they had for each other, Hawke fixed her gaze on Anders. He hadn’t moved yet, and was staring at Hawke, and only Hawke, with a look of confused disbelief. Knowing him as she did, Hawke could see that he was about to escalate into some sort of dismay - possibly even betrayed dismay. Fortunately, her reflexes were even better than her Anders-observation skills, and she bounced lightly to her feet and got to Anders’ side before he could start assuming that this was some sort of setup for Hawke to kick him out or leave him behind or whatever else those dark corners of his mind - or worse, Justice - would have him think.

Thinking was the last thing she wanted Anders to do tonight, and interrupting him in his tracks with a kiss was a good way of throwing him off the brooding. He smelled of soap and water and Hawke enjoyed the way his frame lost some of its guarded tension when she pressed her naked body against his side. 

“Hawke - love,” Anders breathed when she released him, a bit wild-eyed and still clutching the bundle with his robe and staff. 

“We’re doing something different tonight,” Hawke offered, by way of explanation.

Anders gave a laugh that cut awfully close to hysteria. Behind them, Hawke could hear that Isabela had quieted any questions Fenris might have had with an enthusiastic kiss. “I don’t know - I think everyone’s already done Isabela.” 

Hawke made a noise halfway between a groan and a giggle. “Anders…”

“He’s not wrong,” Isabela called helpfully from the bed.

Hawke grabbed Anders by the back of the neck, getting him close enough to get the illusion of being alone together. “I do realize it’s possibly a bit unfair getting all naked before giving you this option, but - we don’t _have_ to.” It was also unfair to wait until she’d already picked up on the signs of interest - this close, Anders’ pupils were unmistakably blown wide, and his pulse quickened under her fingertips - but it wasn’t like it she had done any seducing on _purpose_.

“Right,” Anders said, voice a bit strained. Hawke tried to be patient and not rub a conveniently located breast against his bare arm, but it was hard. She may have let it bounce against him a little. “So if I go…?”

“I follow. Isabela pouts,” Hawke said. “We can probably all live with that.” 

Isabela made an unintelligible protest - muffled by Fenris, Hawke guessed, though she couldn’t tell how.

“But,” Anders said, and Hawke felt him swallow and shift, relaxing against her. “Wouldn’t that be a waste of this perfectly nice giant bed?” 

Hawke grinned, grabbed Anders’ awkward bundle and tossed it aside to be able to fling both arms around him and give him an enthusiastic kiss. “Yes,” she agreed, when she came up for air, enjoying the feeling of Anders’ hands cupping her ass. “It would.”


	3. Aligning Forces

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which everyone fits in the giant bed, and there is a lot of kissing.

Isabela had pulled Fenris along down the bed, leaving a safe space for Hawke and Anders to tumble to the mattress, both of them all hands and very little coordination. Hawke was focused on trying to get as much of Anders naked as she possibly could, and Anders was trying to be helpful while also keeping up his breathtakingly good kissing. Hawke got halfway through with the undressing and then had to pause to wrap herself around Anders and feel the heat of his newly bared skin, his leg between hers offering a few jolts of tantalizing friction she could arch into. 

Hawke made a pleased sound of encouragement, and dug her fingers into Anders’ shoulders to get him into a position where she wouldn’t have to rise half off the bed for that lovely contact. There were still a few layers of fabric to contend with, but Hawke was impatient enough that she could deal with that for now. She hadn’t counted on the differing opinions on this - as Anders smiled and moved to cover her, the bed next to them dipped.

“Tsk,” Isabela chided, which reminded Hawke of - well, of everything beyond Anders, which she had almost completely forgotten about in her urgency to get more Anders all over herself. “I can’t see with all that on him,” Isabela said, and Hawke grinned at the petulance in her voice.

Anders body tensed, but Hawke stroked his back and nuzzled his ear. “I like you naked,” she murmured, “Let Isabela help?”

That was all the encouragement Anders needed. His body relaxed against Hawke’s, and she felt him nod. “Excellent!” Isabela said cheerfully. “And don’t hold up on my account - I wouldn’t want to keep Hawke waiting for more of that sexy grinding.”

Hawke grinned into Anders’ neck, and felt an amused huff against her cheek in response. “I never keep Hawke waiting,” Anders said, and before Hawke could return another quip he was bearing down on her, tangling their legs to give her that crushing friction she had sought. Hawke sighed in satisfaction and moved to meet him, claiming his mouth and tangling her fingers in the damp strands of his hair. She would want much more before long, but she always relished the feeling of her lover’s body fitted against her like this, feeling him harden against her hip with the sound of their breaths running ragged in the close space between their kisses.

Hawke only noticed Isabela had already started working on getting Anders out of his last pieces of clothing when the fabric separating them was pulled back, and his half-hard length pressed against her skin. She hadn’t felt a single touch, and Anders appeared similarly startled, lifting his head to stare at Isabela. “Nice,” Hawke breathed, and Isabela flopped down on the bed facing her with a smug grin. 

“Don’t I get a reward?” Isabela asked, looking between Hawke and Anders from under flirtatiously lowered lashes. Out of the corner of her eye, Hawke noticed Fenris propped up on his elbow behind her, his fingers trailing down her flank.

“What do you think?” Hawke asked Anders, running her hands down the now unobstructed path from his shoulders to his ass. “This _is_ much nicer.” 

Anders hummed noncommittally, but his dark eyes were shining with an undeniable lust, and he shifted his legs so that Hawke could turn to her side with Anders pressed up behind her, his arm around her.

“Please?” Isabela said with the kind of sultry heat that had gotten Hawke to jump her bones without hesitation in the past. Now, it made her shiver and lick her lips in anticipation, Anders' breath hot against her ear.

“A kiss.” Anders voice was so husky it was barely audible, but the way he pressed his fingers against the nape of Hawke’s neck made it very clear what he wanted.

Hawke almost bit Isabela’s teeth in her eagerness to go ahead, but Isabela grabbed her by the hair at the last moment, averting a painful clash. Her golden eyes gazed past Hawke, startled at the sudden restriction, and up at Anders. “Each,” she informed him, and Hawke didn’t even care what face Anders made at Isabela’s bargaining - she herself would have agreed to anything at that point to finally get to the part where she would find out what it would feel like to kiss Isabela with Anders watching. She strained against Isabela’s grip on her hair, a whine of impatience in her throat, and from somewhere she heard an answering, urgent groan.

“ _Isabela_ ,” Fenris’ voice came, low and eager, and it might have been at his request that Isabela relented, but Hawke didn’t pause to ask. With Isabela’s hand sliding down to cup the base of her skull, right over Anders’ fingers digging into the back of her neck, Hawke’s arousal flared wildly, and the only release she had was the kiss. 

It was deep and greedy and Hawke moaned into it, the fingers of her own free hand digging into Isabela’s shoulder, bringing their bodies closer together. She could feel Anders shifting to follow, bracketing her body, leaving her breathless with lust between his hard angles and Isabela’s round curves. Anders teeth grazed her neck, and Hawke’s body spasmed with pleasure, breaking off the kiss.

“Next,” Isabela panted, and reached up to grab Anders the same way she had Hawke. Still squeezed between the two, Hawke’s dazed head fell to the pillow, and she looked up to see Isabela capture Anders’ mouth. She made an effort to shift enough to get a good view - it was entrancing, seeing Anders kiss for the first time. She’d never before caught how his dark eyelashes fluttered against his cheeks before he moaned, or seen with what easy attention he would reciprocate those nips and bites his partner seemed to prefer. But with him this intensely fired up, Hawke knew what he would want.

Fumbling without being able to see, Hawke found Isabela’s hand, and yanked it away from Anders’ skull to cup his cheek. Isabela didn’t resist, and gave a satisfied “Ah,” at the way Anders leaned in to the touch.

Their limbs all tangling together, Hawke pulled herself against Isabela, soft breasts with hard nipples incredibly distracting against her skin. She managed to get her fingertips to stroke Isabela’s neck, right where it met the jaw. “Teeth,” Hawke breathed, “Here.” Isabela nodded. 

Moments later, Hawke found herself with a faceful of supple breasts when Isabela stretched to reach the spot Hawke had indicated, and Anders arched against her with a sharp groan.

“Good spot,” Isabela’s voice came breathlessly, and then she was cut off by a moan as Anders found something to do in return.

Hawke fought her way back up, desperate for someone to give _her_ some of that attention, and then she shuddered as Anders teeth sunk into the top of her shoulder, and long dark hair tickled her face for a moment before Isabela’s warm mouth closed around her ear. There were hands on her, too, though Hawke couldn’t tell who was cupping her breast, who was caressing her side, and who was squeezing her ass - it was all generating too many pleasurable impulses for her to keep track of the details anymore.


	4. A Quadrangular Entanglement

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Hawke’s gang gang up on her.

Isabela’s warm chuckle took a few moments to reach her - Hawke was so lost to tactile pleasure that it was as if her other senses were getting overloaded. She didn’t always get like this during sex, but the combination of the exciting novelty together with the unusual intensity of having more than one body next to hers in bed was potent and heady. And that made it hard to process the meaning of vocal cues, beyond the fact that this meant Isabela’s lips weren’t touching any of Hawke anymore. “So excited already,” Isabela practically purred. “And we’ve barely even started!”

Hawke didn’t even think of denying it. “Good start,” she grinned. And Anders might not be willing to agree to that with words just yet, but he’d been growing steadily harder - the tip of his erection had slipped between Hawke’s thighs, making it impossible for him to deny the truth of Isabela’s statement.

“Oh, it’ll get better.” With those words, Isabela shimmied down Hawke’s body, leaving Fenris to fill the gap she had left. Isabela gave Hawke’s body a few demanding tugs to get her on her back, and she obliged, Anders and Fenris both shifting to accommodate her. As Hawke shuddered at the sensation of Isabela sliding in between her legs, hands grabbed at her hipbones and roved her chest. Anders took the opportunity her upturned face presented to give her another hard, hungry kiss. He seemed particularly fierce about it, and when Hawke blinked her eyes open again she could see that Fenris was watching them both with rapt attention, his hand resting lightly on her sternum, his cock as hard as Anders’ against her other side.

Lips still tingling from Anders’ teeth, Hawke smiled at him. “Kiss?” she offered. She hadn’t been counting, but she knew he must be behind in those.

“Yes!” Isabela shouted from just down the bed, making the mattress dip as she popped up to observe, and Fenris mouth curved in a sardonic grin at the interruption. This did nothing to temper the heat in his eyes, and when his fingers touched Hawke’s cheek, they were trembling slightly. She was fascinated by the mix of emotions she wasn’t sure she had ever seen on his face before, and reached out as if she would be better able to read them by touch. Fenris closed his eyes - the gesture making him seem at once vulnerable and more guarded - and lowered his mouth against Hawke’s.

Anders’ arm snuck around Hawke’s chest, holding her tight, but if he made a protest Hawke didn’t hear it. Fenris kept his hand cupping Hawke’s jaw, and his lips were soft and gentle against hers. They both leaned slowly into the kiss, until Isabela reached over - her body pressing between Hawke’s legs in deeply stirring ways - and stroked a slender ear. Hawke felt his reaction in the way his body shivered against hers, and he made a tantalizing noise deep in his throat that she immediately dove deeper into the kiss to find. Following Isabela’s lead, she trailed her fingers up the delicate point of Fenris’ ear, and she was delighted when he moaned into her mouth and pressed more tightly against her.

“Oh, that is quite lovely,” Hawke panted, continuing to lavish Fenris’ ears in sensual caresses while his teeth grazed her jaw, her lip, his breath coming in short puffs against her skin. His hand had found one of her breasts, his fingers tracing the outline of her stiff nipple, and she smiled as another hand - which even she could tell could not possibly be Fenris’ - slid to cover the other. She heard Isabela hum in satisfaction, and delved back into the kiss with a pleased sigh - one that turned into a sharp protest as the teasing pressure on her nipple increased unexpectedly. Before she could extract herself from Fenris’ kiss to protest, Anders’ hand had covered Fenris’, startling him into letting go, of Hawke’s nipple and the kiss both.

Hawke tensed along with the men on either side of her, a few actual thoughts springing to mind - the first she’d had in awhile, most of them variations of her previous worries about unpleasant consequences. She was panting and wet and about as far from prepared to fight as she had ever been, and would much rather see them all ravish rather than attack each other, but there were a few quick heartbeats where she found herself calculating the possibility of using a blanket as a restraint and/or disruption of hostile spells. Hawke did also consider saying something, but just this once she was loathe to interrupt before she knew how things would play out.

Anders’ hand released Fenris’, and he cleared his throat. Hawke felt his fingers trail to her other nipple, and smiled even before he spoke, his voice rough with a complex blend of arousal and unease. “Not so hard,” he admonished, and Fenris looked suspicious - possibly waiting for a follow-up insult. Hawke, sure that Anders would have acted already if he had truly had enough of all this, arched encouragingly into her lover’s delicate touch.

“See?” Anders looked at her now, the furrow between his brows smoothing out as she smiled at him, and then gasped as he rubbed the hard nipple with the pad of his index finger, pressing down with playful lightness.

Fenris nodded, still seeming ready to go on the defensive, and didn’t touch Hawke even though she pressed her shoulder blades into the bed to make her breasts incredibly prominent and easy to fondle. Anders, however, took the hint. “Try it,” he said shortly, and Hawke gave Fenris’ ear an encouraging stroke.

Hawke exhaled shakily as Fenris’ capable fingers copied Anders’ movements on her other nipple, the sensation of their coordinated touches more than doubling her pleasure. Her hands dropped to either side of her body, her fingers finding purchase in the lean flesh over Fenris’ hipbone on her right and trailing to Anders’ buttock on her left. And just as she thought she was getting settled in, catching her breath and enjoying the attention, Isabela grabbed her hips and gave her cunt a long, wet stroke of tongue.

For a moment there, Hawke had failed to realize that Isabela’s strategic retreat wouldn’t just bring Fenris and Anders closer together, but would also bring Isabela really, really close to Hawke. It allowed Isabela to startle her into a cry, hips bucking off the bed at the unexpected heat of Isabela’s tongue dragging between her folds.

“Sweet Maker, Isabela, I can’t--” Hawke fingers clutched helplessly, her sweaty palms slick against the warm skin of Fenris and Anders on either side of her, but before she could put together a coherent protest Anders put his lips over her mouth. This cut her off rather efficiently.

“Hold that thought,” Isabela said, and Anders moved to nose at her neck, familiar scratchy stubble against her face, he and Fenris both relentless in keeping shivers of pleasure radiating from her nipples. Hawke moaned, instead of - as she had tried to - warn Isabela that she probably would not be able to last long against that sort of licking and sucking, and Anders hummed happily against her skin.

“Up”, Isabela prodded Hawke, and after a lust-muddled delay Hawke caught her meaning and lifted her hips. Isabela shoved a pillow under them, and grabbed Hawke’s legs, pulling them over her shoulders.

The anticipation that followed Isabela’s preparation had Hawke panting with lust, getting wetter by the second as her body tensed, fine tremors chasing each other through her core. “I should warn you,” Hawke breathed, and Isabela’s head lifted back up.

“You’d rather not?” she teased, and Hawke made a frustrated noise because right now it was all she wanted, so of course she’d _rather_ than not.

“No! No, I mean - Yes. I do, I…”

“Isn’t it adorable when she starts babbling?” Isabela cooed, and Anders actually laughed. On the one hand, it was utterly charming to hear him so relaxed now - on the other, now her gang was ganging up on her, which hadn’t exactly been the plan. Well - hadn’t been Hawke’s plan. She was beginning to realize she might have underestimated Isabela’s sweet deviousness.

“If you do, I can’t - I won’t…” Hawke tried, words coming hard now that Isabela had her legs spread and ready and neither Fenris nor Anders seemed inclined to stop stroking or fondling her.

Isabela grinned. “Isn’t that the whole idea?”

“I thought it was,” Fenris growled approvingly.

Anders brushed her cheek gently, and Hawke tried to nip at his thumb when he rested it next to her lip, because right now she wasn’t touching him enough at all. “Let us, love,” he murmured, and Hawke’s defenses crumbled - if all of them wanted this, wanted her, she was more than ready to surrender to their touches. Though maybe not without a few touches of her own.

“Yes,” she breathed. “Please.”

Isabela barely waited for Hawke to finish speaking before pressing a gentle bite into to Hawke’s sensitive inner thigh. “That’s what I like to hear!” she chuckled, the sound tiny vibrations against Hawke’s skin. Skin too far away from where she ached to be touched. Hawke pushed up, flattening her palms against the men on either side of her to gain leverage - but of course Isabela had the upper hand, and her exertions gained Hawke nothing but a gentle push back into bed.

“Relax,” Isabela said, and Hawke could hear the smirk in her voice. “And if you need something to hold on to, you can do better than that.”

Pleasure blindsided Hawke before she could reflect on what Isabela meant. All that squirming and aching, all that waiting, turned into pure satisfaction as Isabela pressed her mouth to Hawke and started licking. Her tongue was hot and wet and sure, skillful enough to be devastating even without her intimate knowledge of Hawke’s weaknesses - all of which she would be sure to exploit. Writhing into the mattress, Hawke felt disjointed flashes of more mouths on her - her neck, her ear, her shoulder, tongues and teeth and lips as Anders and Fenris added pleasure on pleasure.

It wasn’t until she scrabbled for something to hang on to as her body - for this rare once out of her power to control completely - arched with the intensity of it all that Hawke got what Isabela had meant. Her mouth stretched in a fiendish grin for a moment before another moan stole her breath. Trembling with anticipation, her fingers slid down smooth skin and coarse hair respectively, reaching for the erections she had felt digging into each thigh before Isabela hauled her up on the pillow.

Two nearly identical gasps rewarded her at the first, light touch - a sound nearly as enticing as the sensation of being able to encircle two silky-hard cocks at once. The novelty of it intrigued Hawke, even as Isabela was doing her best to keep Hawke from focusing on anything at all except for the liquid heat Isabela’s tongue was sending pumping through her body. Struggling to calm her tremors, Hawke opened eyes squeezed shut for some indeterminable time to appreciate how her vision filled with Anders and Fenris, blond head and white thrown back in concert as she stroked their lengths.

Hawke growled with satisfaction at the sight, and had a sudden, desperate urge to see what more reactions she could elicit from them. She knew it would be good - not only was she extremely proficient at dual-wielding, but their current arrangement had the unfamiliar of the two cocks in her main hand. No way she would let Isabela steal all of her senses before she’d gotten some use out of her own skills. Hawke set her jaw and stubbornly did her best to stop flexing quite so much against Isabela’s amazing mouth.

With painstaking concentration, Hawke firmed up her grip around both Anders and Fenris, setting a gentle pace as she enjoyed the slick slide of them. Anders was leaking already, and she had to gasp at how he shuddered when she rubbed at the precum with her thumb. Fenris was smooth and dry, lighter in Hawke’s hand just as his frame felt lighter than Anders’ pressed against her side, but his skin was burning hot, and when she looked up she’d gotten him to close his his eyes and bite his lip, baring his throat in an irresistible invitation.

Struggling for air under Isabela’s ongoing onslaught, Hawke strained to get her mouth on Fenris’ taut neck without losing Isabela’s mouth from her cunt. Just as she brushed her lips against the first faint, salty dampness, an intense spasm of pleasure wrenched her back down onto the pillow. Hawke groaned with frustration - thwarted by her own body, and Isabela’s masterful manipulation of it. With all of them tangled up like this, shuddering and panting against each other, the scent of sex turning the air heady, distance between skin and mouth seemed like such a waste. “Fenris,” Hawke huffed, trying to catch his attention. “Closer.”

Hawke’s entreaty fell on very distracted ears - Fenris had begun bucking into her fist, and she hadn’t been able to stop herself from letting him slide all the way through her grip, moving to the tempo set by Isabela’s tongue against her. So Fenris didn’t move - but Anders did. Hawke was startled to notice him lean his weight against her, shifting closer to Fenris - and then watched in amazed pleasure as he closed the distance fully. Fenris’ body twitched at the first touch of Anders’ lips pressing against his throat, but Hawke stroked both of them harder, making encouraging, wordless noises that got Isabela’s attention.

As she popped up to check on them, Hawke immediately ached for Isabela’s touch - but lacking it gave her the clarity of focus she needed to fully enjoy the moment. Isabela still supported her legs, and the rest of her trembling body was caught in the crush between the two men as Anders’ head bent to Fenris’ throat. Isabela turned the simple word “Yes,” into a lustful gasp, and Hawke couldn’t see exactly what Anders’ was doing, but moments later he’d ripped a deep growl of satisfaction from Fenris. Her fingers felt a rippling twitch through the elf’s cock, and she gave it a twist she’d discovered was particularly effective.

Almost as if it had been a signal, Fenris countered Anders’ attack without hesitation. Hawke watched, wide-eyed and breathless as he grabbed Anders by the neck for an absolutely fierce kiss. Isabela whimpered - actually whimpered - and squeezed her fingers into the flesh of Hawke’s legs. Hawke didn’t mind at all - it was one of the most erotic things she had ever seen, well worth Isabela putting a few enthusiastic bruises on her. And to think that these two had entered the room at each other’s throats - despite Isabela’s conviction, Hawke had never expected them to come to together so quickly with such absolute passion. There didn’t seem to be any hesitation in how they grabbed at each other now, panting and kissing and pressing hard and heavy into Hawke’s hands.

The thrusting, the sliding - it made Hawke lose her attempt at calm. She rocked up on her hips, the heat between her open legs a chaos of unsatisfied desires, reaching every single part of her body. The weight of Anders and Fenris kissing against her came entirely without friction, and as long as Isabela was observing and Hawke’s hands were busy stoking their passion, there was absolutely no relief to be had.

“Isabela,” Hawke panted, “Isabela, please!” She couldn’t see Isabela’s face, but Hawke thought she could feel an extremely satisfied grin against the inside of her thigh. Isabela’s breath tickled her; did _nothing_ but tickle her, and she contorted helplessly, her moans threading with Anders’ and Fenris’ grunts and gasps.

When Isabela lowered her wet mouth to Hawke again, it made her whole body flex so violently it caught both Anders’ and Fenris’ attention. Hawke’s vision was rapidly glazing over with pleasure, but she saw them turn their heads to her, saw the flush in both of their cheeks, the redness of their lips. Gorgeous. She smiled. Both of them, so gorgeous.

But with all their attention returned to her, she quickly lost even that sliver of focus. Hawke just knew that they squeezed and stroked and tasted her, all while Isabela kept licking and sucking her swollen clit. It was impossible to keep still now; impossible to keep quiet. Her body supported on all sides by her cherished friends and lover, Isabela made her arc, tenser, and tenser, almost rising off the bed until strong hands held her steady for Isabela. They murmured endearments and encouragement Hawke only heard as noise - noise amidst her own rasping gasps, and Isabela’s wanting moans.

Focus shrinking, Hawke’s world became need and aching lust, became nothing but Isabela’s mouth - and then, in a beautiful, trembling ripple of her clit and all the muscles surrounding it, Isabela was everything, and there was was relief. Hawke cried out, and without knowing how it came about found Anders kissing her, greedily lapping up the sounds she was making, her hands threaded through his damp hair. Through tremors that gripped her for long, long moments after the first one wrenched her over the edge, she felt Fenris’ hands stroke her, strong and sure, easing her body into relaxation. Isabela’s tongue grew soft, gentle, lapping tenderly at the wetness smeared against Hawke’s inner thighs and seeking more juices between her folds before withdrawing.

Shrugging out carefully from under her, Isabela left Hawke feeling drenched and dazed and positively ravished, her limbs watery and her lips pleasantly swollen from all the mouths that had been on hers. Isabela made her way carefully back up Hawke’s body, her mouth and chin glistening, her expression entirely smug. She had to avoid planting her hands on anyone’s delicate bits, but somehow managed to sink down on top of Hawke, her broad hips straddling Hawke’s narrower ones, Isabela’s full breasts brushing her skin. Anders and Fenris leaned in, shared the space and the moment as much as they could - didn’t interrupt it, but Hawke felt they might, soon. This close, there was no mistaking their tension; the way their bodies seemed restless with unconsummated lust.

“ _That_ ,” Isabela smirked, “was a good start.” Then she bent down and gave Hawke a kiss, very deliberately smearing Hawke’s lips with some of her own musk. Hawke lapped appreciatively at it, and enjoyed the subtle shudder she could feel from Anders - he always did love her taste.

“Mm,” she agreed heartily, grinning up at Isabela, so wrung out it was hard to find proper words.

Isabela must have caught Anders’ hungry look, because she sat up and turned towards him with a pleased chuckle. “See something you like?” she asked, running her fingertips over the stubble of his jaw. He nodded, and Hawke relished the eagerness in his expression; the playfulness in Isabela’s. Isabela coaxed Anders’ face closer, and her lips quirked in satisfaction as he tilted in for a kiss before he brushed his mouth against her skin, lapping up the sticky residue.

Meanwhile Fenris, not content to wait for his turn at her attention, sat up and wrapped his arms around Isabela’s waist, pulling her into his lap. Hawke could just see the top of his head as he pressed kisses and bites to the soft skin between her shoulder and neck - and she could definitely see his fingers trailing down Isabela’s abdomen. Odd, even now, to see Fenris without his gauntlets, the lyrium bands on his fingers standing out as scars of white against Isabela’s dark, naked skin.

Hawke watched, taking pleasure in looking at the two of them together. And also because with the room swaying slightly around her, there was very little else she could do but lie back and try to catch her breath.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoops - never written anything like this but then Isabela put this idea in my head and. Well. How could anyone resist Isabela?


	5. A Conduit for Attraction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Isabela enjoys herself and others.

Hawk rested a hand on Anders’ flank, stroking the familiar pattern of his scars and freckles. It had been far too long since she’d had a good look at his body - neither being on the run nor being on the road was particularly conductive to long spells in bed under good light conditions - not like tonight, with the flickering fireplace, and the moon beginning to peek through their window. Anders seemed even leaner to her now than he had before she left him with Isabela - she suspected the sea and his stomach might not always have agreed. Either that, or he’d fretted away all of his rations worrying about Hawke.

Her mind was quickly distracted from her concerns about Anders’ eating habits when he noticed her attention. “Hawke,” he said, dark eyes on her once again - all on her, and she smiled at the fondness in them. Oh, Anders. Hawke could still feel his sweet, singular warmth here in this shared, searing heat. When Anders brushed her sweaty hair from her forehead, the comfort of that gesture satisfied her heart in a way only he had ever been able to. And when Hawke felt the slight tremor in his fingertips, she realized that while she had been awash with afterglow, Anders had been completely deprived of any attention - and yet he made no protest or claim on her, choosing to wait and let her bask in the moment they had all given her.

“Oh, Anders,” Hawke said out loud, fondness overriding her exasperation at his tendency toward self-denial. She beckoned him down for a light kiss, and then used the leverage of her arms around his shoulder to sit up in his embrace. Holding him close like that, it was even more obvious to Hawke that Anders was burning up with need - his chest heaved with shallow breaths, and his when she dragged her fingers over his clavicle and the hollow of his throat, his skin twitched in their wake.

Clearly, Hawke would have to find an outlet for all of that sizzling energy. She was all spent for the moment - he had definitely helped see to that - but that didn’t mean she didn’t get all tingly at the memory of him kissing Fenris. A bit of help - yes. That’s what she needed.To take care of Anders. 

There was something of a shuffle, as Hawke turned in Anders’ arms, trying to get a good view of their bedmates - Anders made a winded sound when Hawke accidentally knocked some part of herself into his abdomen - but they both froze at the sight of what they had been missing while absorbed in each other.

Isabela was still curled up in Fenris lap, her back to his chest, his head bent over her shoulder. A sweet embrace, at first glance, but their expressions of rapt concentration was almost as much of a giveaway as the slow, rhythmic rocking. Hawke groaned softly, and Anders exhaled a sharp, “Oh, sweet Maker,” in her ear. The other two were  _ definitely _ doing more than just cuddling. 

Looking at their position, Hawke recognized that Fenris couldn’t be going very deep into Isabela, but judging from the way she was meeting his shallow thrusts and biting her lip, she had him exactly where she wanted him. And Fenris definitely didn’t seem to be minding the slow build. Especially with his hands free to cup Isabela’s breasts - an overflowing bounty, far more than just two handfuls, though he made a valiant attempt at squeezing as much of them as he could reach.

Isabela threw her head back, letting out a throaty moan as Fenris pinched her nipples, and his lips curled in pleasure at the reaction. Which might have been calculated for effect - when she lowered her head, her golden gaze was amused but alert, weighing the reactions she was getting from her rapt audience. “Hello,” she said, barely a stutter to the silky words even as she kept rocking against Fenris cock. “So glad to see we didn’t wear you out too badly.”

Her pose in Anders’ arms a chaste mirror of Isabela in Fenris’, Hawke grinned.“I think you wore me out pretty well, but…” Hawke reached her arm up, stroking Anders’ neck behind her. “There’s someone here who hasn’t gotten any wear at all.” Anders scoffed at the teasing - being spoken of rather than to - but he didn’t vocalize any protest. At this point, lust clearly outranked pride among his emotions, especially as it would have patently ridiculous to try and deny what was written so plainly in his flushed skin and straining erection.

“You’re right,” Isabela said with mock chagrin. “We’ve been neglecting him. Poor Anders.” Isabela leaned forward, planting her hands on the mattress, and Fenris shifted with her -  _ in _ her, his hands moving from her breasts to grab at her hips. Isabela’s eyes grew hooded, and she inhaled sharply as Fenris’ new position brought him deeper with every stroke. Bracing herself on Hawke’s thighs, Isabela rose up to peer at Anders. “We’ll have to think of something to make it up to you, won’t we?”

Anders swallowed, loudly enough that Hawke could hear it, and Isabela visibly relished his reaction. She was close enough for either of them to kiss now, close enough for Hawke to feel the motion of Fenris’ hips through Isabela’s body. She brushed her lips against a sweaty temple. “You mean you haven’t already?” 

Isabela sighed pensively, her long exhalation shuddering slightly. “Oh, I don’t know. There’s just so many options…”

Hawke leaned back, wiggling her body against Anders’ erection. “I wouldn’t wait too long,” she confided as Anders bit back a whimper at the stimulation. 

Isabela grinned, and winked at her. “Well in that case…” She made a sharp gesture with her chin, and the anticipation was enough to overcome Hawke’s reluctance to relinquish her comfortable spot. Hawke slid out of Anders’ embrace, leaving him startled and standing hard for Isabela, his knees splayed invitingly. Hawke pressed close to Anders’ side, wanting to feel him, wanting to _watch,_ and wrapped a hand around the back of his neck.

Isabela crouched, a lioness about to pounce, and looked hungrily up at Anders who had gone stock-still. “So,” she drawled, and Fenris head came up to follow the exchange as he continued his measured strokes, his eyes feverish with more desire than he let show in his impassive expression. “No more waiting?”

Anders shook his head, wordless with anticipation. Hawke grinned. They’d really done a remarkable number on him already, if he didn’t have any smartass reply.

“I thought so,” Isabela nodded, and sank down over Anders, her fingers hooking over the crest of his hip bones. The curtain of wet hair made it impossible for Hawke to see exactly what Isabela was doing, but having just been on the receiving end of the woman’s skills, she wasn’t surprised when Anders keened low and shuddered. It was only too easy to imagine the heat of that laving tongue, the suction of Isabela’s charming lips.

Hawke shivered with the memory of euphoria; with the quickening of Anders’ already rapid pulse under her fingertips. Isabela moved her head up and down in a gentle rhythm, which almost immediately made Anders’ breath catch and his eyes grow wide. Hawke thought it was just the stimulation, after so much waiting and teasing, but then she followed his gaze and made a little “Oh,” of realization. It wasn’t Isabela. It was _Fenris_. Fenris setting the pace; Fenris’ hips driving Isabela down over Anders, Fenris’ hands pulling her back. And Anders  _ knew _ \- Isabela had made sure of that; had set herself up as a conduit between Fenris’ thrusts and Anders’ pleasure.

“You devious blighter,” Hawke muttered admiringly under her breath. On top of it all, Isabela was clearly enjoying herself immensely, melting into Fenris’ grasp, moaning around Anders’ cock, her body beginning to shudder with fervor at the attention. The three of them made a most delectable picture like this - reveling in each other, filling and taking and stroking and grinding. Anders’ hands were clenching the sheets on either side of him, and Fenris’ impassive expression was cracking. Something in the set of his mouth spoke of desperation, all while his gaze burning with bliss.

Isabela was growing louder, her whines sinking to a deeper pitch as she licked and swallowed and over those wet noises Hawke could hear the slick glide and shove that meant Isabela must be  _ soaked _ . They all could, their attention drawn to Isabela as it had been to Hawke before, and Hawke couldn’t resist joining. She left Anders to sink down to the sheets, and reached for Isabela. Her shivering skin was hot against the cooling sweat on Hawke’s - so satisfying to pet, to get close to. 

Kneeling at Isabela’s side also gave Hawke a better - no, an  _ amazing _ \- view of Anders. He had sprawled back on the mattress now, knees in the air. And not just knees - his cock was standing up from its thatch of dark hair, streaked with slippery rivulets, straining and twitching and not at all in Isabela’s mouth. Instead it seemed as if she was nosing into Anders’ swollen sac, her insatiable tongue exploring new areas - much to Anders’ approval. That garbled cursing was absolutely an endorsement to continue, Hawke knew, and let her gaze linger long enough to ensure that Isabela interpreted it correctly. Which - of course she did. She was Isabela, after all. 

Hawke grinned, and let her hands slide down Isabela’s flank. There was just enough room to slip one hand between Isabela’s heaving body and the bed and cup her breast. The stiff nipple tickled the palm of Hawke’s hand, and she caught it. Rolling it between her fingertips, she remembered what Isabela liked, and squeezed hard. Isabela made a small keening sound, and Hawke had to let her her hand linger there for a moment longer, enjoying the sensations of kneading yielding breast and pinching the stiff nipple, so much larger than her own.

After she’d fondled her fill, Hawke let her other hand rove up the curve of Isabela’s stomach to explore the pounding rhythm of Fenris’ thrusts with her fingertips. They were both so slick now, she could feel Fenris glide into her with no resistance - Isabela would be aching for more stimulation. For clever fingers like Hawke’s to delve into the heat of her folds and find the swollen centre of her pleasure, stroking her clit just like so.

If not for her mouth being full of Anders, Hawke knew, Isabela would probably have screamed - she always loved a nice, loud climax. Or a nice, loud anything, really. As it was, she made a throaty noise and drove up so hard against Fenris that Hawke lost her spot and had to try and find it again while Isabela wriggled with extreme impatience and Fenris tried to not lose  _ his _ spot. 

Hawke felt Isabela’s juices soak her hand as she searched for just the right angle, getting frustrated with the lack of purchase - and then Fenris pushed inside and stayed there. Isabela kept squirming, of course, but with Fenris’ strong hands holding Isabela suspended on his cock there wasn’t any pounding to keep up with. Isabela’s struggles made Fenris grunt with the effort to keep her pinned, but  _ finally _ Hawke had her again.

Fingers dancing, stroking, pinching, getting Isabela to shudder from the core of her being, clenching and pulsing around Fenris. Hawke glanced up for long enough to share a look of satisfaction with Fenris, and then Isabela had all of their attention again. Fenris held steady against Isabela’s writhing, allowing himself slow, shallow thrusts that didn’t break Hawke’s concentration, her own pace quickening and hardening, wringing the most deliciously depraved moans and cries from Isabela’s throat, her head still bent over Anders, who was squirming into the sheets under her attention.

They couldn’t maintain the intensity for long - Isabela had already held on for longer than Hawke had thought possible, and for a moment she wondered if she was waiting for Fenris - but then she clenched hard around him and her spine went taut. “Yes, come on,” Hawke murmured, using her fingers as well as her words to urge her on. With a choked gasp, Isabela arched her body, threw her head back with a snap of wet hair and shuddered hard. Hawke and Fenris both kept stroking her - Hawke could feel Fenris motions through her fingertips, and matched his rhythm as they coaxed more of those shudders out of Isabela’s body. Isabela had found her voice now, and was enthusiastically sharing her approval with the rest of the inn.

Hawke laughed, pleased, and Fenris’ smirk was a particularly joyful one. As Isabela’s cries grew more subdued, Fenris slowed his pace, and Hawke did the same. Together, they eased her out of the last of her climax with gentle strokes, and then Isabela sighed with absolute satisfaction and went limp. Hawke caught her, pillowing Isabela’s head on her thigh, wiping the sticky wetness from her chin as Fenris withdrew carefully.

“That,” Isabela told them, eyes twinkling, chest heaving as she struggled to get her breath back. “Was very,  _ very _ nice.” 

“So we heard,” Hawke grinned down at her, and Anders chuckled from where he’d propped himself up again.

“So everyone heard,” Fenris told her dryly, but his gaze was warm and fond and he seemed nearly as satisfied as Isabela, despite an incredibly prominent arousal signaling that he was the very opposite of sated.

“I might need a moment,” she purred and stretched most fetchingly, her damp curls tickling Hawke’s thigh, her fingertips stroking Hawke’s face. “And you?”

Remembering their earlier conversation - remembering how this had all started - Hawke was impressed with how Isabela had gotten them to this point. That was very clearly her cue right there. Hawke swallowed a smirk. “Mmm - another few moments, yes,” she said. “You did wear me out.”

Isabela didn’t bother hiding her grin. “Well, we should make sure  _ everyone _ gets nicely exhausted before we’re done,” she said brightly, and pushed off from Hawke. “And I think I was in the middle of… oh, yes.”

Disheveled and flushed from fucking, Isabela still managed to look absolutely predatory when she turned to Anders. “Him,” she finished, and Anders went very still.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Isabela is _very_ good at getting what she wants.


	6. Application of Gravity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Anders and Fenris get better acquainted.

Hawke watched avidly as Isabela placed her hand on Anders chest - she could actually see it as his breath caught, and his pupils contracted. Then, with the barest suggestion of a push, Isabela had Anders on his back again, and her fingers dragged from his chest down the trail of hair between his navel and groin, and then dipped lower. Next to Hawke, Fenris body tensed, and she could sense the staggered intensity of his arousal. _Oh._

“Hawke?” The sound hung in the air for a few moments before Hawke realized Isabela was trying to get her attention - trying to give her something with her free hand. Hawke had no idea where Isabela had gotten it from, or when, but it was a small flask. “You’re not too worn out to help, I hope?”

Hawke shook her head, and eagerly grabbed the tiny bottle. From between his legs, Isabela patted the bed next by Anders’ knee - assigning spots now, was she? But considering how well this had been going so far, Hawke scooted over quickly, and without protest. Anders hips were resting on a pillow now, angling him up - she hadn’t seen Isabela arrange that, either, but it looked _very_ inviting.

“Get it open, would you?” Isabela told her, and Hawke fumbled with her slippery fingers on the small cork, distracted by how incredibly aroused looked Anders was where he lay, heels digging into the sheets, legs spread, teeth set around a whine as Isabela’s hand slid under his tight sac.

Looking over her shoulder, Isabela shifted to brush her fingers across Fenris’ tip where it peeked out from his curled fist. He drew a quick breath, and Isabela smiled at him. “Impatient?”

Fenris nodded, curt and strained, his complexion flushed dark under the lyrium markings.

“Hawke _is_ being really slow with the bottle,” Isabela sympathised, stroking him lightly.

Hawke gritted her teeth and shoved the flask at Isabela - the cork had popped out, and she’d been too distracted to notice. Isabela didn’t take it, just held out her hands to Hawke, raising an expectant eyebrow. Hawke hurried to tip the bottle over Isabela’s fingers, coating them in a familiar kind of clear, slick oil. Isabela rubbed them together, and the preparations passed muster. She put her hand back down, and Anders gasped at the slick touch. “Good. Now do Fenris.”

Hawke blinked.

“With the oil,” Isabela said, rolling her eyes.

“Uh,” Hawke said, not quite sure what either of them had just assumed, but hoping that Fenris would know what was going on. “Right.”

While they spoke, Isabela had kept herself busy with Anders - very, very busy, from the way she was getting him to roll his hips and groan like that.

Hawke turned to Fenris, to find him already at her elbow. His hand was was loosely wrapped around his stiff shaft, the lack of curls at the base giving it a long, lean impression. Fenris glanced up at Hawke from under his shaggy bangs in what she could only describe as a smouldering look. He probably wasn’t even conscious of doing it - his eyes were only reflecting the tension and lust in the rest of his body.

Already familiar with the feel of him from earlier, Hawke still paused. It seemed presumptuous to act on Isabela’s vague instructions without checking with the target of said instructions first.

Proffering the bottle, Hawke tilted her head. “I could help you with this,” she said, and Fenris’ eyes flashed.

“I could use a hand,” he said, his lips curling into a crooked grin.

Hawke answered with one of her own, and raised the flask to pour out some of the oil - then she paused, a memory jumping to mind. Another firelit night, far away - Fenris head bent over her desk as she leaned in, wrapping his hand in hers, her fingers adjusting his grip of the quill; correcting a stray stroke of ink on paper.

“Wait,” she said. “Here.” She knelt behind him, opened her arms.This time, let Fenris be the one to teach her the right grip; the correct stroke.

Fenris’ look of surprise only lasted a moment - possibly because he had far more pressing concerns than quizzing Hawke on her choice of positions. He followed her directions, leaning easily into her arms. Their frames were so closely matched in size that she could comfortably keep him propped up and still wrap a hand around his cock. While she fiddled with the bottle again, mindful from past experience of how unpleasant it would get if she let it fall to the sheets unstoppered, she traced kisses up Fenris’ neck and ear. He sighed with pleasure, and Hawke smiled and rested her chin on his shoulder, settling in.

Hawke’s gaze sought Anders out of sheer reflex. From this angle, most of him was hidden behind Isabela, but she could hear his strained panting and low moans, and see his knees splayed far apart as Isabela kept pushing and probing, murmuring encouragements with gleeful approval.

Having finally managed to get a good quantity of the runny ointment in her cupped palm, and the cork back in the flask, Hawke reached both arms around Fenris’ waist and curled his fingers around her fist. “Show me,” she breathed in his ear, and he made a growling noise deep in his throat, pushing her fist around his cock so hard the oil squelched. Oh, he _liked_ this.

Giving Fenris an encouraging nuzzle to the neck, Hawke relaxed and closed her eyes; found that state that was about following the flow of another body; reading motions to understand an action before it reached completion. Usually a fighting skill - to learn and do battle - Hawke relished the sensations it brought to use it in this sensual manner. Fenris was slick and smooth in their mutual grasp, his fingers getting hers to stroke and squeeze just so, his hand strong and calloused around hers. He was quiet, save for a few hitches in his breath and even fewer muted versions of those growls she’d heard before, but his body felt alive with ecstatic tension, every inch of him taut and feverish.

Over the stroking and sighing, Hawke could catch Anders’ voice straining under Isabela’s expert onslaught of pleasure. She heard him writhe into the sheets, gasping, and Isabela chuckling richly. “So sensitive!” she said with apparent delight, and Hawke silently agreed. Back in Kirkwall, when they had more time - and more props - Hawke had spent many happy hours learning just how sensitive, and figuring out all the fascinating ways in which she could make Anders lose control. Lose control in the _good_ way - all Anders, overwhelmed by his body rather than his mind, more present in the moment than almost any other. Justice - most fortunately - was repulsed by carnal pleasure.

Which meant Hawke was used to having Anders all to herself in bed and other places where she got to touch and taste and engulf him. Greedy, she had never before thought to share - well. Any of it. Yet here she was, Fenris nestled against her chest, both of them stroking him together as Isabela explored some of Anders’ best features, and Hawke found it added rather than subtracted from her enjoyment. That the hands pleasuring Anders weren’t hers didn’t rankle - not when she could still luxuriate in the noises he made in response; feel the throes of passion stir the bed below her. But she was starting to recognize that if that had been her touching him, this was right about when she’d start giving him _more_ \- more of something; it didn’t always matter what.

Hawke’s eyes flew open. “Isabela,” she called softly, and was surprised by how quickly Isabela turned her head, despite having been so engrossed in Anders - Hawke was immediately distracted by how his limbs had been flung akimbo, and his skin was shining with a sheen of sweat in the firelight. Isabela must have batted his hands away at some stage, because he was clutching the sheets rather than touching himself - a wonderful way of keeping him in this delicious state for longer. Hawke approved.

“I thought it was getting about time,” Isabela grinned, and Anders stirred at the sound of her voice, but his eyes remained squeezed shut, her hand keeping him entranced.

Hawke didn’t know what it was about time for - well. She knew Isabela seemed very confident about it, and that it all made her a bit tingly with anticipation, despite having reservations even now that it could be done. But that had never been a reason not to try. “Definitely,” she agreed instead of voicing any of her doubts, and Fenris’ fist gave a squeeze so brief it would’ve been imperceptible, had it not still been wrapped around hers.

“The flask,” Isabela said, and Hawke released Fenris to fumble around the sheets for it, glad she’d gotten it closed before forgetting about it. The glass was warm to the touch from the heat of the room when she found it and passed it to Isabela, who withdrew from Anders to take it.

Anders noted the absence of her fingers with something like a whimper, his hips spasming, and Fenris muttered an unintelligible curse. Hawke watched as Isabela poured another coat of thick oil on her fingers and returned them to Anders, who sighed and settled tensely. With her other hand, Isabela held the flask out for Fenris.

“You want it?” There was something Hawke couldn’t read in Isabela’s expression - a hint of seriousness behind the playfulness, a solemnity to the question that meant something more to the two of them than to her. Fenris hesitated the merest fraction of a heartbeat before grabbing it, Isabela’s mouth quirking smugly as he snarled an affirmative.

“Fenris can manage now, I think,” Isabela told Hawke lightly, and that was all it took to draw her to Anders side like an iron filing to a lodestone. His eyes fluttered open when she moved, his head rising from the pillows, damp hair in disarray. She lunged to kiss him; claim him, revel in his hot breaths and grabbing hands and fluttering pulse.

Hawke stroked her fingertips down the middle of his chest and abdomen, following the familiar landscape of his sweat-damp body until she could curl them around the base of his shockingly hard erection. Anders hissed at the contact, and Hawke’s hand bumped into Isabela’s. Right. Isabela was still - was _inside_ him. And Anders was grinding his hips against her - the moment Hawke moved her lips from his, she could hear again the thready moans that were cries begging to be given form; could see how Anders’ body was writhing and straining for more, unable to find release on Isabela’s fingers.

Her existing tingle of anticipation became more akin to an electrical storm when Hawke looked past Isabela and saw Fenris, his length now dripping with clear oil, his ravenous gaze fixed on Anders yielding body. On Isabela’s fingers, sinking into its heat, too slow and shallow, Anders searching desperately for more.

“Move,” Fenris said tightly, and as Isabela melted out of his way, he moved to take her place between Anders’ legs. Bereft of Isabela’s touch, Anders gasped and half-rose, and Fenris slid in under his hips, tossing the pillow aside to pull Anders’ legs over his own thighs. Hawke pulled herself flush with Anders’ side, propping herself up on an elbow as she draped her other arm over his shoulders. Looking down, she watched raptly as his Anders’ eyes fluttered wide at being handled so, dark and dazed with lust, and stared at Fenris.

Hawke swallowed, her mouth gone dry with the potency of the anticipation she felt. She had seen these two stare at each other with sharp frustration and raging enmity and wary truce, had felt the air crackle with something that was one step away from tangible magic between them - but she had never seen them like this. They were so fiercely focused on each other that a horde of darkspawn sweeping through the room likely wouldn’t be enough to break their gaze - and if any darkspawn tried, Hawke and Isabela would _end them_.

Anders groaned and shivered against Hawke - a feverish, uncontrolled reaction as Fenris’ knees brushed his inner thighs. Fenris froze for a moment, startled. Then, never taking his eyes off Anders’, he ran his fingertips along that that same sensitive flesh with slow purpose, from Anders’ knee to the crease of his thigh. Anders, helpless to resist, jerked his body into the caress, rolling his hips trying to find a touch that wasn’t there.

Fenris hissed, tense muscles growing even more tightly strung, his lyrium veins taking on a low, battle-ready glow - but it wasn’t battle his body wanted. They both grabbed for each other at the same time, Anders surging up, Fenris catching him with bruising force for a kiss that Hawke had not seen coming. It was short and brutal and left them panting, faces inches apart, Fenris’ fist wrapped in Anders’ hair, Anders’ fingers digging into Fenris’ shoulders with desperate force. As if it had been a question finding an answer, Fenris rasped “Yes.”

Out of the blue, Isabela put a finger on Anders’ lips, surprising him into letting go of Fenris - surprising Hawke, too. Neither of them had noticed her, but here she was, on the other side of Anders’ body, close enough to reach out and mirror the gesture on Fenris at the same time. “No,” she said, and Hawke felt the first stirrings of incredulity - of all the moments to interrupt! - which Isabela quenched with her next words.

“ _Ask_. Don’t assume.” She released them with a quick caress of each lower lip, and Fenris bared his teeth but there was no rancor in his glare.

“Fine,” he snarled. “Mage--”

The syllables weren’t even past Fenris’ lips before Hawke could feel a new thread of dark tension in Anders, his pliant heat contracting into furious incandescence.

Isabela put a warning hand in the air, her eyebrows raised, and Fenris narrowed his eyes in annoyance. But then he shook himself free of the distraction, turning again to the one thing that mattered right now. “Anders,” he said, his voice a husky rumble. “You want to fuck?”

Anders groaned, caught in Fenris’ stare again, low and breathless, and struggled to turn a noise of desperate arousal into a word. “ _Yes_.”

There was no telling which one of them moved first, or whose hands were directing whom - they came together, clashing like the first blow of a sudden fight, and they grappled, and then Fenris snapped his head back with a gasp and Anders fell back against the pillows, shuddering. Fenris’ fingers dug into Anders’ hips, angled up over his own, and they both panted harshly as Anders took Fenris more deeply with each shallow, rolling thrust of their bodies.

Hawke watched them closely, aroused fascination making her own breath catch - Isabela had opened Anders well, to allow Fenris well-slicked shaft to sink into him with so little resistance. Picturing how Anders must be sucking Fenris in, twitching and pulsing all the while, Hawke pressed her forehead to his temple, taking the shell of his ear between her teeth. “Come on,” she coaxed hoarsely, and Anders bucked up from the bed. Hawke startled back at the intensity, just catching as the groan it wrung from Fenris as it left him fully buried in Anders’ heat.

Each of the two was shocked still by the sensations, their bodies pausing for a silent moment to react and adjust. The gold and silver of firelight and moonbeams coming through the window enhanced every sharp angle with shadow, reflected off every sweaty plane - a work of art, but alive with raw emotion that no master sculptor could ever capture in static stone.  Hawke held her breath, waiting - then with a grunt, Fenris gripped Anders tightly, holding him in place to better judge the impact of another few, slow plunges.

There was nothing languid about the tempo - Fenris was probing; learning. Feeling Anders out like he would have a new foe in battle - searching for the right spot to attack. Anders sensed it, too, and drew short, quick breaths as he held in place, trembling against Hawke as Fenris plunged in and withdrew, infinitesimal variations in every new stroke. It didn’t take long for one of them to draw a shudder and a moan, and Fenris eyes lit up as he immediately repeated it to the same results. Releasing a fraction of his control, Fenris let Anders’ body rise the best it could to meet him. Hawke could tell from his knit brow that he was still concentrating; holding on - waiting to see if he could still repeat the angle of the stroke that Anders was so helpless to resist. When he did, Fenris growled in satisfaction.

The knowledge that Fenris could seek and find such reactions any time he wanted was seared into both their bodies now, and they burned with it, gasping and rutting and driving faster and harder. Anders returned every shove of Fenris’ hips against his with a grinding thrust, the motion spurring Fenris on inside of him. The air in the room was alive with their heady musk and the sound of their bodies meeting, merging, wet and slick and hard in all of the right places.

Isabela, eyes shining, had her back turned to Anders’ face so she could see everything else up close, to her evident delight. Now and again, one of her hands would stroke Fenris’ back or clench down on his shoulder, savoring the strength and savage energy in his muscles, but she was exhibiting a great deal of self-control and staying completely out of their encounter now that it was underway.

Hawke would’ve been grateful if she’d had sense enough left to do anything but let the impressions of Anders’ and Fenris’ fierce passion wash over her. This was like nothing she had ever seen - oh, she’d seen Anders lost to his desire, had seen him desperate and eager and wrung out, but she’d never been able to _watch_ , or to see him driven into the mattress over and over in a punishing rhythm by someone who wanted him as much as Hawke always did. Plastered to his side, Hawke felt an echo of every thrust; felt Anders react to them; heard even the faintest keening gulp, and watched him reach out to clutch at Fenris’ shoulders - instinctively seeking to get some control back, or to pull Fenris in, Hawke didn’t know. She couldn’t tell if he was even aware of how he was now leveraging his body closer to Fenris’, seeking more of that heat and hunger that matched his own.

Fenris might not have noticed, either - he was absently blinking sweat out of his eyes, body and mind subsumed in the slick pull of Anders around him, pumping his hips, working furiously to keep those sensations coming and coming. So they grabbed at each other, Anders’ grip around Fenris’ arms, Fenris’ fingers sliding down to dig into the flesh of his Anders’ ass and then grabbing at his thighs, his hips, pushing him down into the pillows again.

Hawke didn’t know how long it had been or how long they could last - Fenris belly glistened where Anders’ tip had left a trail of precum when they bent together, and it seemed they must both be beyond ready for release. She was wet again. Wet and aroused and plastered against Anders, Hawke slid her free hand between her thighs. A glance confirmed that Isabela was stroking herself too where she knelt, hips moving with slow, sinuous grace next to Fenris’ frantic rutting. Hawke would have liked to help, but there was no time to move - Fenris shifted his hips just so, and on the next stroke, Anders was wracked with such pleasure it drove a gasp from Hawke just watching his face transform with it.

When Fenris didn’t immediately repeat it, Anders whined in frustration, and Fenris plunged deep and held there, staring down at Anders - seeing him as Hawke did, writhing and trembling with need. With a wordless groan, Fenris shuddered through another few long, slow thrusts, letting Anders’ desperation build along with his own. His brow knit in such fierce concentration that Hawke would have thought Fenris too focused on his own body and that below him to see anything else, but somehow he managed to catch Isabela’s free wrist in a demanding grip.

Isabela’s exhalation carried a thrilled note, and her eyes gleamed as Fenris directed her to shift against the tangle of their bodies, spreading her knees to fit even closer, one of Anders’ folding over hers. She left one hand between her own legs, and the other Fenris wrapped around Anders swollen cock.

The moment she folded her eager fingers around him, Anders hissed and arched his back into the sheets. His body was still suspended in an arc of tension when Fenris clapped both hands around his waist and tugged him back down, hard. Slipping through Isabela’s slick fingers, pushed onto Fenris, Anders was too overwhelmed to do anything but screw his eyes shut and open his mouth in a soundless cry. Fenris gasped with satisfaction, and gave a half-nod to Isabela. “Stroke him?”

“With pleasure,” Isabela responded, predatory. And she did, leaving Fenris to throw his head back and grind his teeth and _fuck_.

Hawke couldn’t tell what he was doing differently to Anders’ writhing body, but from the torrent of half-articulated cries that burst from his lips there was no mistaking Fenris’ unerring accuracy. And unlike the previous strokes Fenris had doled out, Hawke got the feeling he wasn’t going to stop this time. Fenris wasn’t pulling back or teasing or trying to make it last anymore. No - instead he was going faster, clenching his jaw against whatever sounds were rising in his throat, every muscle in his body drawn taut as he moved with single-minded intent towards a climax at long last.

The bed shook with the force of Fenris’ fervor, and Isabela’s hand moved to the same hard rhythm, giving Anders something to push into with every answering jerk of his hips. He sought Isabela’s touch blindly, wrenched with shivers he couldn’t control, giving himself instinctively to those who were bringing him such pleasure.

Soaked in the sounds and sensations of her lover hovering on the knife-edge of ecstasy, the scent of sex heavy in the air, Hawke quickened the pace of her own fingers. Even with her arm trapped between Anders’ side and her own body, she could get her hand into a good position; could rub and tweak just so - yes. Still swollen and sensitive and so slippery from Isabela’s tongue, a bit of pressure on her clit was all it took for Hawke to make herself moan into Anders’ shoulder. She borrowed the rhythm of Fenris’ rolling hips - the same pulsing throb that was reverberating through Anders’ body; that Isabela was following with the quick flicks of hand around him - and the one dipping into her cunt.

All of them, Hawke realized with a ragged gasp. They were all of them moving together, as one, pounding and stroking and thrusting and rubbing to a deep, primal rhythm that they shared without words, without thought, without sense. They shared it as they chased after the eruption of release that would follow the long, simmering tension - something that had been building for longer than they had spent in bed; for longer than they had travelled the dusty road to Weisshaupt together.

In one instant tasting of salt and musk and lyrium, Hawke finally understood what Isabela’s words hadn’t been fully able to convey, because it wasn’t about words. It was about the physicality of it - of being attuned to each other, of having bodies and magic and being able to fight with perfect synchronicity only to think (thoughts; words - none of them as real as bodies, as instinct) that they in all other things had to be diametrically opposed. When instead, they could be _this_.

Without warning, the heat coiling in Hawke’s belly sprung free - a second climax pulsating in sharp, sweet pangs through her quivering centre. She rubbed up against Anders, who heaved against her, a sound like a sob wrenched from his lips. Hawke pushed an arm under his neck and threw the other over his chest, pulling his rigid body into her arms for one trembling moment before he finally reached release.

Fenris lifted him into Isabela’s fist, and his seed spilled between her fingers, coming in fits and spurts that stained Fenris’ lyrium-crossed skin as well as his own. Hawke felt a splatter of it on her thigh, and drank in the sight of it running down his length as Isabela pumped him dry. There was so much of it it trickled down between him and Fenris, and surely, surely Fenris must feel the sticky heat of it as he threw his head back and grimaced in ecstasy.

Soundlessly fierce, Fenris plowed into Anders, never losing his rhythm or his grace until he found his own release in Anders’ willing, wrung-out body. When it came, it took Hawke a moment to realize it had happened - it was that quick, and silent. Fenris’ jaw clenched around ragged breaths and his frame shuddered a few times as his fingers dug into Anders’ flesh with bruising force before he slowed and stilled - and only then did Hawke realize it was over.

Anders chest was rising and falling with deep, desperate breaths, which were the loudest sound in the room as they slowly drifted down from frenzied heights of passion into a sated daze. The fireplace crackled, and somewhere outside the window heavy boots trod the path to the outhouse. Hawke’s skin felt as hot as if though she’d lain too close to the fire, every inch of her covered with sweat soaking into the sheets, sticking to Anders. Her thighs were slippery with evidence of how incredibly turned on she’d been, and there was a pounding satisfaction radiating from her centre; beating in time with her heart.

Across from Anders, Isabela sighed, the edges of it ragged with pleasure. “Wow,” she said. Just that - no other words followed, a speechlessness which Hawke took for high praise indeed.

Fenris and Anders said nothing, and Hawke shook off enough of her daze to raise her head and look between them, intently curious on what would pass next. They were still too entangled for Anders to move away without sacrificing all his dignity in a mad scrabble. With his entire body flushed, it was impossible to tell if any emotion brought color to his cheeks, but Hawke caught the moment when Fenris pulled away, and Anders gaze flinched from hers. With Fenris withdrawing, Anders would have just felt ample warm, liquid evidence of how completely Fenris had found pleasure in his company - did that disturb him? Or did he think it disturbed Hawke?

Hawke hurried to pressed an encouraging kiss to his damp temple, wishing more than anything for Anders to enjoy the moment as much as she had been. Putting a hand along his face, turning his gaze back to hers, Hawke smiled at Anders. “That was lovely,” she murmured, and her smile grew wider as his eyes widened. Had he thought she would be anything but pleased once she recovered her sex-dazed senses? Had he forgotten how _she_ had been the one to get him naked in their improvised giant bed? Hawke sighed fondly. Well, Anders always was keener at second-guessing all his choices than he was of considering the consequences before he made them.

“I concur,” Isabela said from the other side, and Hawke could just see her open her arms and and pull Fenris down across her body.

Anders still had some unspoken question, some ready protest knitting his brow, though he might still be trying to gather enough wits to put them into words. Hawke stroked damp hair out of his face for him as he had done for her, and smiled wryly. “Anders?”

“I…” he started, uncharacteristically hesitant. “You’re not…”

Hawke didn’t know exactly which unpleasant adjective she was not, but as Anders seemed immensely relieved by her not being it she didn’t feel any need to dwell on it. “I’m _very_ satisfied,” she said, an unexpected huskiness to her voice helping her make her point. “With everything,” she added, stressing the last word. After so long away from their bedroom in Kirkwall, that Anders had finally found someone who could do to him what he sometimes needed and Hawke could not provide - there was a reason she could still barely see straight, and it wasn’t that she’d just brought herself off like she could do any night she pleased.

Anders kissed her then, instead of answering, and Hawke was happy to respond in kind, and to rest her head on his shoulder when they sank back down on the bed together. On Anders’ other side, Fenris was draped over most of Isabela, as relaxed as Hawke could ever remember seeing him as he soaked up her heat, and the gentle touch of her hands stroking his broad shoulders. He turned his head to look at Hawke, and she saw that he was smiling.

With all the tension drained out of him, his eyes were once again light and clear, his focus soft. He met Hawke’s gaze with warmth, but closed them and nuzzled into Isabela’s neck when it seemed he might accidentally exchange a glance with Anders. Well - it wasn’t hostility, or even regret. From the amused look Isabela shot Hawke, she got the sense that Fenris was dealing with something as simple - or complicated - as confusion.

“Come on, Hawke,” Isabela said, interrupting Hawke in her enjoyment of the spine-melting comfort of the moment.

“What?” Hawke grumbled.

“We got our boys all dirty,” Isabela said with pride. “We really ought to clean them up - I mean, they already spent so long getting bathed before.”

“Yes, I was wondering what the innkeep’s unexplained delay with the bathing facilities was,” Fenris interjected mildly.

“And?” Isabela asked.

“I’m not wondering anymore.”

“Wait,” Anders said, looking at Hawke. “That was you?”

Hawke gave a half-shrug into his shoulder, admitting to the act without going into any details. Pushing herself upright in bed with a yawn, she diverted the attention back to Isabela. “Only fair, I suppose.” It was true - waking up covered in the cold, flaky remains of what had been steamy good times was never as pleasant as getting covered in the first place.

Isabela had wisely insisted on having a few buckets left by the fireplace, alongside clean linen squares from the baths, so at least they didn’t have far to go. Padding across the warm tiles, Isabela caught Hawke’s eye, and nodded back at the bed. Hawke grabbed her bucket and turned around, and smiled as widely as Isabela had at the sight. Anders and Fenris, exhausted together in bed. Exhausted and _quiet_. And even touching - with Isabela rolled out of bed, Fenris had fallen prone back into her spot, his face resting on his folded arms, and neither he nor Anders had recoiled from the casual contact of a sprawling leg or angled elbow.

Isabela mouthed, “Aren’t they sweet?”, loathe to stir the two into raised hackles of protest.

Hawke nodded vigorously. “And quiet,” she whispered back, and they shared a giggle.

Still smiling, they got back into the middle of their cobbled-together monstrosity of a bed, trailing dry linen and wet cloths fresh from the buckets left by the side.

Anders made to reach for the cloth, but Hawke snatched it up. “Let me,” she said, and after a moment Anders nodded and sank back to the mattress. Next to them, Fenris had no reservations accepting Isabela’s ministrations, stretching languidly as Isabela carefully ran the damp cloth down the curve of his spine and over his ass. Hawke snorted - of course Isabela would take the opportunity to enjoy feeling Fenris up some more.

Then she went straight ahead and felt up Anders some more, which was nice. But it was also nice to run the warm cloth along his tired limbs, wiping the sweat off of his skin, rubbing gently at the surprising amount of sticky spots she found scattered on him. Anders said nothing, but moved easily into her touch, turning over and shifting his limbs so that she could reach every inch of him, and when their eyes met, he smiled.

No wonder Isabela had volunteered to get out of bed - this was quote lovely. And as much as Anders was relaxing and enjoying the attention, Fenris might be even more taken with it. After a few minutes of gentle washing, Fenris was practically purring with satisfaction - eyes closed and limbs in utter repose, even when Isabela picked them up and handled them.

After she finished with Anders, it didn’t take much more for Hawke to get clean than a cursory wipe with the used cloth, and a good scrub with the dry linen. Anders offered to help, but her eyelids had grown heavy with the same leaden weight that was coming over the rest of her, and she wanted to get done and curl into bed with him more than she wanted anything else. Including, apparently, a slow, sensual massage. It would be something to remember for next time - if she was slightly less exhausted from next time.

If there was a next time - well. That was a thought for a more alert mind than hers to ponder. Besides - there would always be a next time with Anders.

Yawning, she pushed the used cloth to the floor, and crawled back into the centre of their bed - there were a few damp spots, but nothing they couldn’t ignore for the privilege of pleasantly exhausted sleep.

Yet tired as she was, Hawke still noticed the reversal with amusement - earlier, it had been her and Isabela naked in bed, with Anders and Fenris cautiously joining, keeping the other two bodies as a buffer between them. And now, it was Isabela and herself coming back to Anders and Fenris side by side, too wrung-out and sated from fucking earlier to bother forcing distance between their bodies now.

Hawke practically collapsed into Anders’ open arms, nestling into his neck as he wrapped around her. Freshly washed, his skin was cool against hers, but the pleasant scent of salt and sex lingered on him - or maybe just in their bed. It always brought a smile to Hawke’s face to have Anders tucked so close - knowing he was safe, knowing anything after him would have to come through her to get him. And tonight, that peace of mind was multiplied by Fenris at Anders’ back, and Isabela flanking them on the other side. Sated, satisfied and safe, Hawke pressed a kiss to Anders’ jaw, and closed her eyes to let sleep take her. The last thing she felt as she drifted off was Anders’ lips soft on her forehead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now all that's left is to see what happens in the morning...


	7. Momentum

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back on the road again.

The morning brought more amusement than Hawke normally expected when waking up to a long day of trudging north. Night had stirred their careful arrangement, and before waking fully Anders had managed to cuddle Fenris affectionately for a while until he realized the body he was holding lacked a certain familiar softness to the contours - and also that Fenris was awake, and watching him expectantly. He had rolled off quickly, neither of them speaking a word, but Hawke knew Isabela had seen the exchange, and the smile they traded was one of satisfaction at a job well done.

Getting ready together in the small space was an amicable affair, and when they broke their fast downstairs in the inn’s common room, she felt something like the clear calm after rain hang in the air, despite the Anderfel heat. It wasn’t just her, either - they had a whole meal talking only about the snatches of information they had gathered about hazards and dangers of the way they had left to go, and the latest rumours of the Inquisition. Isabela’s wide smile was matched by the brilliant gold of her eyes - lately it had sometimes had a brittle edge, but today she was all solid joy and banter.

And as for Anders and Fenris, they were each silent in their own way. It was late afternoon by the time the spell of last night wore off, and they picked up a familiar thread, arguing about which companions the Inquisitor - whom they’d never met, and who kept perfectly good counsel up in Skyhold with Varric - should trust in a fight against Corypheus.

Hawke sighed dramatically, and rolled her eyes. Well - good things couldn’t last forever. But Isabela put a hand on her arm, stopping her before she could stomp off and get as much space between herself and the inevitable bickering as possible. “Wait,” she said. “Listen.”

It hadn’t occurred to Hawke that anything might go differently, this time around - she had gotten used to the silence, and figured that Anders and Fenris would either avoid each other completely, or be at each other’s throats again. But this time, when Anders snapped in the defense of the mages and rumored demon in the Inquisitor’s keep, Fenris didn’t growl in response.

“Anders,” he said - not a slur, but Fenris ladened the name with exasperation. “Why do you insist on making enemies?”

“I’m sorry?” Anders had not expected this completely new turn in an old path of conversation.

“When you have…” Fenris trailed off, then took a breath. “...those who would be your allies.”

Well. Hawke had never heard _that_ before. It wasn’t the word ‘friend’, but it was Fenris, _making nice_. And of his own free will, too, as far as Hawke could see.

“I don’t?” Anders protested. Then he stopped, too, and sighed. “I already have plenty of enemies. I only… I have to make the _allies_ I have left understand. About… things.”

There may have been some tension in the _have to_ , Hawke thought. And Anders, with Justice - he would, too. Have to. Have to do so many things he had lost the ability to deny in one rash decision years ago. But she’d never heard him admit as much to anyone but her. And she’d certainly never heard him defend his fierce stance on ideology as a necessity.

“Maybe we already do,” Fenris said, tersely. “And still choose to disagree.”

“But that makes no sense,” Anders said, baffled.

“It really kind of does,” Isabela said, speaking for the first time.

Anders looked at both of them, so crestfallen that Hawke went and gently took his hand in hers. “Some people stay, Anders. Even if they disagree. That’s what they’re trying to say.” Fenris nodded, his eyes on a distant point on the dust clouds over the horizon, unwilling to get drawn deeper into any confessions of the heart.

Hawke squeezed Anders’ hand, and left him to walk silently at her side, grappling with the simple truth Hawke already knew. That there were some people in your life who stayed by your side you despite your flaws and your mistakes. Those were the people you could trust to have your back, and they were the ones you would do anything to protect.

There was nothing she could do to help him understand - but maybe now, he would. Fenris did, and had clumsily tried to share it - undoubtedly sparked by last night, which seemed to have made him decide that if he couldn’t have a proper enemy in Anders, at least he could try and get a better friend.

Hawke smiled. Maybe Isabela had been right all along, and last night had been about more than pleasure. Maybe now that they knew they couldn’t utterly reject each other, eventually Anders and Fenris would find a way to - if not embrace each other’s views, then at least allow them to coexist.

Silently.

That was the most important thing. The road to Weisshaupt was long, and so much more pleasant when the hotheaded passions of her companions was spent on sex and silent introspection.

“Isabela,” Hawke said, and caught her friend’s eye. “Thank you.”

Isabela laughed, the sound low and rich, and her eyes twinkled. “Any time,” she said - part teasing invitation, part solemn recognition, and all Isabela.

Hawke grinned, and looked at the long road winding on ahead, with a new feeling of relish at all of the promises of adventures it held for her with her friends at her side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a fun first in my writing - first story with an explicit rating, first foursome, first F/F. First Dragon Age story longer than a few thousand words! I really appreciate the kudos and comments that I've received - thank you so much for the encouragement in this endeavor. I love these four (and all of their friends, too), and hope that inspiration will strike again, so that I can revisit them down the (figurative and/or literal) road.


End file.
